


This Mark

by VarjoRuusu



Category: The West Wing
Genre: AU, Cute, F/M, Fluffy, Happy Ending, Josh is a bit of an idiot, M/M, Oneshot, Post ITSOTGM, Pre Manchester, President Bartlet is a bit of a troll, Sam isn't that much better, Season 2 AU, Short, angsty, soul mark au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 23:11:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10056119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VarjoRuusu/pseuds/VarjoRuusu
Summary: Josh knows who his match is, he's lucky enough to be one of the few people who's soul mark is a name. What's unlucky is he's seen the mark on his other half and it doesn't seem to have anything to do with him. And it's in the wrong place.Meanwhile the world seems to think they've stumbled on some White House gossip when they discover that Jed and Abbey Bartlet aren't actually a matched set.AU where marks are different, meaning they relate to each person, however they are always in the exact same location on the body.





	

**Author's Note:**

> You'll notice I mention Josh and Sam in law school. I realize there are 5 years between them and they went to different schools, but in my head they did some shared semester or something, at some other school. I tend to ignore their age gap a little anyway, so. Before anyone goes nuts because I messed up, that is my head canon.

“Mr. President?” Josh said quietly. “May I ask you a deeply personal question? And feel free to have me thrown out of the White House, or Washington, or even the country, but...”

The president waited and Josh took a deep breath, clenching his hands in his pockets.

“Abbey isn't your soul mate, is she?”

Jed stood for a moment before sighing and sitting back down at his desk, sliding his glasses back onto his face.

“No, Josh, she isn't,” he said quietly. “Her soul mate was an Air Force pilot who was killed in a dogfight over Bagdad when they were twenty. Mine was a girl named Catherine Mills, I went to high school with her. She was killed by a drunk driver on her way home from a party when she was seventeen.”

“I'm...so sorry, sir,” Josh struggled to say around the lump in his throat.

“It's okay, Josh, it was a long time ago. When Abbey and I met...well, we knew we had already lost out on the 'meant to be' happiness, so we decided to make our own. We've never publicly said if we were or weren't, but these days everyone just assumes if you're married...”

“They shouldn't,” Josh said softly. “It's not polite.”

“You haven't met them, have you?” Jed asked, looking up at Josh and leaning back in his chair.

“I...have,” Josh muttered, looking at the floor. “It doesn't go both ways.”

“I'm sorry to hear that, Josh. It's rare that only one of you has a mark, it must be even worse to know who they are and that they don't have a matching mark.”

“I have a name,” Josh sighed. “I always thought I got lucky because I got the obvious one but...”

“Yeah.”

“Goodnight, Mr. President,” Josh said after a moment, turning on his heel to leave the oval office.

“Goodnight, Josh. Keep your head up,” the president called.

“Thank you, Mr. President,” Josh nodded, closing the door softly behind him and glancing at his watch. It was after 1am, everyone should have gone home by now. Of course it was the White House where 'should have' didn't mean they had.

As he made his way to the communications department to look for Sam and Toby, Josh did his best to keep his mind off the name that ran around his hip on the right side, the one with the little squiggle underneath it that Josh knew by heart. He hadn't meant to go inside his head on the whole soul mate thing again, not after putting it away so many years ago and swearing to ignore it, but the pictures that had turned up in the Virginia tabloid a few days ago had gotten him thinking.

“Hey, Josh, what are you still doing here?”

Josh glanced over his shoulder and saw Sam falling into step with him on the way to communications.

“I was...the president wanted to see me,” he said.

“About the bill?” Sam asked, pushing his newly acquired reading glasses up his nose as he looked down at the notes he held in one hand.

“Yeah, about the bill, Sam if you try to read while you walk you're going to run into someone again.”

“There's no one here,” Sam said, half a second before they turned a corner and he bumped his shoulder into the wall, bouncing off and tilting right into Josh's waiting hands.

“You're a bigger klutz than I am,” Josh said fondly as he gripped Sam's upper arms and straightened him up, waiting half a second to make sure the other man had regained his balance. Sam blinked a few times, glanced down at the notes, then at the wall, then back at the notes, then at Josh.

“You may have a valid argument here somewhere,” he said at last.

“What do you mean somewhere? It's practically a proven scientific fact. I'm surprised you haven't managed to break anything,” Josh chuckled.

“Are you going to harass me all night?” Sam asked petulantly.

“Are you going to be here all night?” Josh asked, raising his eyebrows as they continued walking.

“Probably, Toby is hung up on the EPA section and I'm stuck on the Water Rights sections and it's...just a mess,” Sam sighed, rubbing his forehead as Josh pushed the door open for him.

“Anything I can do to help?” Josh asked as he followed Sam through the desks and into his office. He spotted Toby next door glaring at the wall and smashing one of his little rubber balls in his fist, like he was trying to squish it out of existence.

“Hm?” Sam asked, glancing up from papers on his desk he was sifting through.

“Can I help?” Josh asked again and Sam blinked.

“I know it's probably a lot to ask at...what time is it?”

“Around 1:20.”

“AM?”

“Yeah, AM, Sam, it's dark outside,” Josh chuckled.

“Right. Anyway...could you find us some food? And...coffee?”

“You want that in pints or gallons?” Josh grinned, already filtering through the places he knew that would still be delivering. It was DC, so they had a good chance on any given day that at least one place would be open 24 hours.

The rubber ball hit the window between Sam and Toby's office and Sam paused, looking at the window, waiting for it to strike again. It did.

“Gallons,” Sam said and Josh grinned as Sam brushed past him to answer Toby's call.

 

* * *

 

Half an hour later, after finding Donna wandering the halls and sending her home, Josh deposited four large coffee cups and a pile of sandwiches on the conference room table before returning to the communications bullpen.

“It's not too strong, the language is fine!” Sam was shouting across the empty office space.

“It's too strong, Sam, the president can't be that strong on this kind of a crackdown, it looks dictatorial!” Toby shouted back.

“I got food,” Josh said, taking advantage of three seconds of quiet. Toby glared at him and Sam threw his hands up, following Josh back to the conference room, fuming the whole way.

“That sounds like it's going well,” Josh grinned and Sam chuckled, shaking his head as he sighed, slumping into a chair.

“This is the definition of a nightmare,” he said with a sigh.

“Yeah, well, I got sandwiches,” Josh said, indicating the pile on the table.

“From the place? With that roast beef?” Sam asked, delight filling his eyes as he grabbed the nearest cup of coffee.

“Yeah, that one you won't shut up about,” Josh chuckled, pulling his sandwich from the pile. He had ordered several, since for one he himself hadn't eaten since about 6pm, and for another he also knew there was always someone hanging around in the middle of the night who was hungry. Spare sandwiches left on the table would be gone by morning and it wouldn't be the cleaning staff that disposed of them. There was always at least one clerk who was in the West Wing straight through the night and lamented the fact that the mess closed at 9.

“Did you see that tabloid from last week? The one in Virginia?” Sam asked, mouth already full of roast beef sandwich. Josh paused, glancing up at Sam.

“What tabloid?” he asked. Play dumb, play dumb, play dumb. He did not want to get into this discussion right now.

“The one that had a picture of the First Lady in that Vera Wang dress.”

Well, no such luck then.

“She wears a lot of Vera Wang,” Josh pointed out around a mouthful of BLT.

“This one was strapless, the photographer got her from the back, and her hair was off her shoulder, and there was something there, something that the tabloid at least felt it would be good to write about.”

“What?” Josh wanted to fidget in his chair, but he was resisting with every ounce of willpower he had.

“It's her soul mark, Josh, it's pretty obvious. At least, the headline certainly thought it was obvious. Most people are dismissing it as a tattoo that someone digitally added color to. That's what CJ is telling the press who are asking, but I heard the First Lady told her the truth about it.”

Josh held his breath. There were only two hard and fast rules about soul marks, they were always in the same place on both people, and they were the crimson color of freshly spilled blood. They could be different from each other or identical, but they would indicate the other person some and the placement was always, always identical.

“The president's mark is on the top of his foot.,” Sam said quietly. “Anyone who's ever seen him wandering around without shoes has seen it. A lot of people have seen it. I'm not sure anyone has ever seen Abbey without shoes.”

“Yeah, I...know, I asked him about it actually. He told me Abbey's soul mate was killed in a dogfight over Bagdad,” Josh said softly. “Yeah, I saw the article,” he nodded at Sam's look. “His was killed by a drunk driver when she was a teen.”

Sam's face looked so broken Josh wanted to hug him. Instead he clenched the arm of the chair so hard his knuckles turned white. He wondered who up there was laughing at his life to, on the very same night he had brought it up with the president, convince Sam to reach the same conclusion and then probably plow right on through the discussion Josh didn't want to have like a high speed train.

“I've never understood my mark,” Sam admitted quietly. “It's just a line and some numbers. You saw it when we were in law school, didn't you?”

“Yeah,” Josh nodded, a hazy memory of Sam's left side, a small red line, and another shot of tequila. “You were showing off for...Annie?”

“Amy, I think...” Sam said, casting his mind back. “No, I think it was Jill. I have no idea.”

“There was a lot of tequila involved that week, it was just after finals,” Josh chuckled.

“Yeah,” Sam said, falling quiet again. “Hey, how come I've never seen yours?” he asked, looking at Josh as if he'd just come out of a fog, suddenly all curiosity. Josh shrugged.

“I've just got a name,” Josh said, hoping that it was benign and boring enough that Sam wouldn't want to see it. If he did then the jig was up and Josh would be even more depressed and probably quit his job from sheer anguish. Even as the thought crossed his mind he wanted to laugh at himself for the wording his brain had just chosen. He wasn't normally that dramatic.

“Shouldn't that make it easier?” Sam asked. “I mean, I haven't got much to work with but you have a name.”

“Yeah, well, when you have a name and then you meet that name and then you see their mark by accident and realize it's got nothing to do with you, it kinda blows,” Josh chuckled.

“Oh...sorry,” Sam muttered, looking away.

“S'ok,” Josh shrugged, starting at his coffee. In the silence Toby stormed into the room and appropriated a cup and a sandwich without a word. The other two just watched as he stomped back to his office, before they went back to their food, unconcerned by the interruption.

“How do you know?” Sam asked a while later.

“Hm?” Josh hummed, tossing the last of the trash in one of the bins, three uneaten sandwiches left on the table like an offering to the late night gods.

“How do you know that their mark has nothing to do with you?” Sam asked, finishing his coffee and tossing the cup in after the sandwich wrappers.

“Because it doesn't,” Josh said quietly, willing the subject to drop.

“Josh, how do you know?” Sam asked and Josh turned to look at him, his stomach dropping at the look on Sam's face. “Where is it?” he continued when Josh didn't answer.

“Sam,” Josh started.

“Josh, where is your mark?” Sam demanded, stepping a little closer.

“My right hip,” Josh said quietly.

“So is mine,” Sam breathed. Josh raised his eyebrows.

“I though it was on the left,” he said.

“You were drunk. It's on the right.”

“Sam...”

“It's a line. A line, with five red numbers under it,” Sam continued, his eyes never leaving Josh's. “51700.”

Josh's brain went into overdrive, trying to decode the numbers into something that might explain what Sam was trying to say or imply. It only took about seven seconds for him to come up with the answer and when he did he felt like the breath had been punched out of him and his mouth went dry.

“May 17th, 2000,” he said quietly and Sam nodded.

“It's your scar, isn't it?” he asked softly, his hand raising to brush over Josh's shirt where he knew the scar from the surgery was.

“Sam...”

“Is it my name?” Sam whispered, looking up at Josh. “Is it my name?”

Josh held his breath as long as he could, Sam's blue eyes holding him like a deer in the headlights. “Yeah,” he finally expelled with a whoosh of air. “Yeah, it is, and your...chicken scratch of a signature,” he finished with a small laugh and Sam chuckled.

“You know, there was so much going on that it took me a while to figure it out, but when I did...it was like being hit with an airplane,” Sam grinned, his hand now resting on Josh's chest, feeling his heartbeat through the dress shirt.

“Aren't you supposed to be an articulate speech writer?” Josh teased, surprised how easily the conversation carried on despite the revelation. Sam snorted.

“I'm not that good with words around you,” he admitted with a smile.

“Really,” Josh deadpanned and Sam rolled his eyes, leaning forward quickly to kiss Josh full on the mouth before pulling back and blinking rapidly.

“Really,” he said after a minute. Josh just grinned and shook his head.

“Ok, here's what I propose. You go finish whatever section you were working on, then you're telling Toby you're going home. We're going to go to my place and sleep, yes, Sam, sleep,” Josh said when Sam opened his mouth to protest. “You're going to sleep, and then we're going to talk about _this_ thing you're going to show me _that_ thing again because I think you're lying, I think it's on the left.”

“You were drunk,” Sam said, his eyes twinkling as he backed away and headed for his office, not taking his eyes off Josh until a wall obstructed his view.

Josh tucked his hands in his pockets and shook his head, chuckling. He jumped a little when the door behind him opened and the president leaned into the room.

“I saw that,” he said with a knowing wink and Josh swore he felt his face turn bright red as the president walked away just as quickly as he appeared, tailed by his detail.

Josh just stood there and blinked for a few moments then shrugged, figuring that at this point his life probably couldn't get that much weirder, all things considered.


End file.
